


what am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you

by Miyukitty



Series: SASOikawa 2017 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, Future Fic, Iwaizumi Hajime Swears, Living Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miyukitty/pseuds/Miyukitty
Summary: And what am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're okay?I'm falling to pieces, yeah, I'm falling to pieces





	1. ::tooru side::

**Author's Note:**

> iwaoi as the disaster couple that fights all the time but can't stay broken up bc they miss each other too much. written for several soundtrack prompts bc everyone prompted breakup songs!! but title is from [breakeven](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rq8N5aqeaHc), a song i totally forgot how much i love :3 ~~anyway it's easier to write character death than it is breaking up~~

  

 

The dresser drawer was stuck.

 

Oikawa rattled it impatiently. It was the same stupid drawer that got stuck every time since they'd assembled the cheap furniture together, the only dresser they could afford for their first place. He remembered how Iwaizumi insisted on being the one to use the hammer, for his own good, and how Oikawa had laughed at him when he got the pieces mixed up because they all looked the same and had to take it apart again. He also remembered promising that they'd get brand new furniture for their next place.

  
  
He gave the drawer a vicious wrench. The knob came clean off in his hand. Oikawa glared down at the offending piece of wood. He felt like if he closed his fist around it right now, he could crush it into dust.

 

With a huff, he dropped it on the carpet and stalked back to his duffel bag. Whatever. He only needed enough clothing for a few nights.

 

It didn't matter if his favorite jacket was in that drawer. He could get it later. Oikawa ran his hands messily through his hair. He was too agitated to concentrate on what he was doing.

 

His phone was still on the charger on the nightstand, side by side next to Iwaizumi's. Iwaizumi had stormed off without his phone. He wasn't going to be back for hours, if he came back at all tonight. Oikawa stared at it and swallowed around the lump in his throat.

 

There was no way to reach him. Fine. It was better that way. No chance of going back on his word.

 

He ripped his charger out of the socket and threw it unceremoniously into his bag. It didn't matter. He would figure it out later, later, right now he just needed to get out before the weight of everything came crashing down.

  
  
There was white hot rage burning behind his eyelids, threatening to spill hot down his cheeks. The fight was still ringing in his ears, echoes lingering in every corner of their bedroom.

  
  
He stomped out to the bathroom to retrieve his toiletries. So maybe he made a few bad decisions. Oikawa never claimed to be perfect, despite his posturing. But he could deal with the aftermath of his own impulse control, his own moods, his own flaws, as if he hadn't been dealing with them all his life already. As if Iwaizumi knew him better than he knew himself-!

  
  
He could take care of himself. He could live without Iwaizumi's overbearing presence looming over him, disapproving of his every choice, hounding him, bickering at every turn.

 

He could live without Iwaizumi Hajime.

  
  
He could live without the scent of Iwaizumi's aftershave lingering in the air every morning, reminding him of drowsy kisses and stubble and watching the clean glide of a razor. He could live without that cologne, too, the one Iwaizumi's late grandfather had given him to wear for the first time at their high school graduation, that he now only brought out for special occasions or dates. There hadn't been many of either, lately.

  
  
Guilt twisted sick in his gut. He was the one who never had enough time. Always trying to do too much at once.

 

Oikawa touched the cool surface of the dark amber bottle, as his gaze darted up to the mirror. His eyes were red and swollen, shining too-bright under the harsh light of the bathroom. He was a mess.

 

He looked like he was going to fall apart, but that wasn't right, because he was fine. He needed to be fine.

  
  
He grabbed his toothbrush, his blow dryer, his shampoo bottles, everything he could stubbornly fit in the circle of his arms, and stumbled back into the bedroom. He yelped as his toe stubbed against something in the carpet, and dropped everything in a jumbled heap.

  
  
"Fuck," he cursed, eyes watering.

  
  
It was that stupid dresser knob. Oikawa glared at it, teeth bared in a snarl.

  
  
"Fuck!" he shrieked, and flung himself onto the bed. His fingers twisted helplessly in the sheets that still smelled like Iwaizumi's soap and sweat and skin. He buried his face into the pillow and _screamed_.

  
  
It wasn't just today. All they knew how to do was fight these days, at each others' throats about everything and nothing. They knew each other too well, and Oikawa would be damned if he didn't always aim for every weak spot he could hit every time he got angry. He hated the pride that unfurled in his chest, grim and victorious, every time he saw the gleam of hurt in Iwaizumi's eyes. Neither of them needed this.

  
  
The worst part was, he knew Iwaizumi would forgive him if he just stayed. He'd been doing it all their lives. That was why Oikawa had to be the one to leave.

 

Numbly he rolled to his feet and resumed packing.

  
  
They could live without each other. Even if they'd never tried before.


	2. ::hajime side::

 

The letter in his hand was slightly crumpled in his grip. The lease was up soon, Iwaizumi noted. He kicked off his work shoes and shed his jacket with a sigh. He still had a few weeks to decide what to do about the apartment.

  
  
He dropped the letter atop the stack of this month's bills, not yet paid, and ambled to the kitchen for a quick dinner. There was leftover pizza from last night. Hanamaki and Matsukawa had dropped by, suspiciously unannounced, under the guise of 'just being in the neighborhood'. Iwaizumi rubbed his tired eyes before cracking open the box. He was still a little hung over, if he was honest with himself. He must be getting older. It was getting harder to keep up with those two.

  
  
_"Either get a roommate or move out already," Hanamaki had finally urged him, three beers in, cheeks flushed as pink as his hair. "You can barely afford this place by yourself. Why are you still waiting?"_

  
  
_Matsukawa just rubbed his back and hummed in sympathy, until Iwaizumi shoved him off the couch. He forced a laugh at the affronted face Matsukawa made, even if the smile didn't reach his eyes._

  
  
_"Because I like this place. I don't want to give it up," Iwaizumi shrugged, dismissing the topic._

  
  
_He pretended not to see the meaningful look Matsukawa exchanged with Hanamaki. It was the only time they brought it up, and the question Iwaizumi really wanted to ask them never quite left his lips._

  
  
_Is he all right without me?_

  
  
Iwaizumi tore into his cold pizza with a little too much force, smearing a glob of sauce carelessly along his jaw. He did like this place, damn it. He didn't want to move, even if he could probably find a place closer to his job, even if he could probably find cheaper rent now that it was just him. It wouldn't be the same. He'd have to leave some things behind that weren't his alone.

  
  
_So stubborn,_ Oikawa would have chided in that annoying voice of his. _Anything I left here, I don't need, Iwa-chan._

  
  
Iwaizumi wiped his mouth on his sleeve in defiance, and pretended he could hear the offended squawk Oikawa would have made at that.

  
  
So what if he was stubborn. Maybe he liked that secondhand sofa with the one wobbly leg because he'd damn near dropped the whole thing down a flight of stairs when Oikawa let go of the side he was carrying just to make a point. He liked the matching kitchen stools Oikawa's mother had given them as a passive aggressive housewarming present because they'd gotten dents all over from playing on them when they were kids, no matter how many times she told them not to.

  
  
He even liked Oikawa's stupid potted plants that he still remembered to water more than half of the time, rescuing them from the brink of death each time he noticed them wilting in the window, and thank god they were all weird cactus things he didn't know the names of that didn't need much water because otherwise Oikawa would have killed them from neglect a long time ago.

  
  
Oikawa was everywhere except where it counted. And he knew he should be angry, because Oikawa was the one who ran off and left him – scattering traces of himself everywhere so Iwaizumi could never forget the looming absence of his presence in every inch of this space, the holes where he was supposed to be.

 

He had the right to be mad about it, to hurt. Oikawa wasn't here to steal the last piece of pizza from under his nose, or to complain about the texture of cheese being different when it wasn't heated. He wasn't curled up in his lap making bad puns all night with Matsukawa and Hanamaki, until they inevitably started teasing him for getting too handsy with Iwaizumi in front of them. He wasn't there in their bed when Iwaizumi woke to his alarm each morning, even if he swore he could still smell a trace of Oikawa's fruity shampoo on the pillowcase. They fought so much when they were together, but Iwaizumi would have taken all of the shouting over the oppressive, unrelenting silence of them being apart.

  
  
And it did hurt. But it was a dull ache that settled into his bones, a comfortable sort of pain he donned like a second skin and carried everywhere he went. Iwaizumi didn't know how to be angry over this.

 

All he really wanted to know was that Oikawa was all right, wherever he was. That he was taking care of himself, the same way Iwaizumi was still numbly going through the motions. They had never gone this long with no contact at all.

 

Iwaizumi rubbed his tired eyes again, and pretended not to notice that his hands came away wet.


	3. ::breakeven::

 

The click of a key turning in a lock. He might have missed it, such a small noise, if it hadn't been so damned quiet in the apartment that it rang out like a gunshot.

 

Iwaizumi stared as slowly, hesitantly, the front door creaked ajar.

  
  
A beat of silence passed. Iwaizumi crossed his arms defensively, so tense he could barely dare to breathe. His heart thundered to life in his chest with dizzying intensity. There was only one spare key. It could only be his.  


  
  
Then a familiar tuft of brown hair peeked from around the side of the door, followed by Oikawa's too-wide eyes. They blinked rapidly at the sight of Iwaizumi glaring from the kitchen.

  
  
"Oi," Iwaizumi barked, before he could duck back out of sight.

  
  
Oikawa shot up straight, still peering around the door as though it were shielding him from Iwaizumi.

  
  
"Oh, you're home, Iwa-chan," Oikawa sang with false cheer. He flashed a grin, but it faltered when Iwaizumi's stony expression did not waver. His gaze darted to his feet.

  
  
"You should have texted if you wanted to pick up your stuff," Iwaizumi said gruffly. "I would have made sure I wasn't here."

  
  
Oikawa shuffled guiltily in the doorway, still avoiding eye contact. Without the plastic smile artificially lighting up his countenance, he looked forlorn. There were dark bruises beneath his eyes, and his hair was rumpled and sticking up in odd places like the times when he fell asleep in Iwaizumi's lap. He was just wearing a thin shirt when he should have brought a jacket. Maybe he forgot to pack one, like an idiot.

  
  
Iwaizumi clenched his jaw, willing himself not to move.

  
  
Oikawa gnawed his lip anxiously. 

  


"That's not it," he said softly. "I just… Mattsun texted late last night. He was worried, but-! I don’t know why, you're doing fine without me. I shouldn't have come. You don't need me to worry about you, do you, Iwa-chan?"

  
  
"Nope," Iwaizumi answered.

  
  
The ache in his bones sang out, his body desperate for relief, but he was as stubborn as he'd ever been. He wasn't the one who left. He had nothing to apologize for. He wouldn't budge, not this time.  


  
  
Oikawa's expression slipped for just a moment – a flash of something young and vulnerable crossing his face, quickly smoothed over with the careful mask of indifference he wore in public. He stood a little straighter, adjusting his shirt as though it was just dawning on him how he was dressed. He tried to smile, but Iwaizumi could see it for the fragile thing it was – the quiver in his lip, the tentative way his gaze searched for something, anything, in Iwaizumi's expression to give him away. But Iwaizumi was carved from stone.

  
  
The key was still in Oikawa's hand. He held it out, palm up, as an offering.

  
  
"Then take this back," Oikawa finally whispered. "We can live without each other."

  
  
Iwaizumi stared at it. 

  


Then he shook his head in sudden refusal. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let it end like this. He didn't want to give up this apartment, this chapter of his life, this aching to belong to each other. It wasn't worth it to lose him, to lose everything.  


 

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to find his voice.

  
  
"I don't want to," Iwaizumi admitted aloud, voice cracking.

  
  
He wasn't sure when he closed the distance between them. It happened so fast, his pining body moving of its own accord. He simply found Oikawa in the circle of his arms, and suddenly they were both shaking with relief against each other. He gripped Oikawa fiercely, one hand ruffling his hair, the other sliding around his waist to never let him go.

 

Oikawa's composure broke with a shuddering sob as he buried his face in Iwaizumi's chest, fingers clutching at his shirt.

  
  
"Oh thank god, I'm so sorry, Iwa-chan, I missed you so much," he sniffled into the crook of Iwaizumi's shoulder.

  
  
"Dumbass," Iwaizumi growled, before pressing kiss after kiss atop the crown of his head. "Don't fucking scare me like that ever again. I thought– I thought I lost you, Tooru. I really thought you weren't gonna come home."

  
  
"We were fighting so much and I've been so stressed and it's always my fault you get mad-! We needed a break, and I thought you'd be better off without me," Oikawa blurted in a rush. His voice pitched into a yelp as Iwaizumi dug his knuckles into his sensitive ribs. 

  


"Ow, ow-! Iwa-chan, okay, I get it! I get it!"

  
  
"Do you?! So what if we have a big fight? We always fight a lot, Shittykawa!" Iwaizumi snarled. 

  


He grabbed Oikawa by the shoulders and gave him a little shake, forcing him to meet his eyes. "It doesn't mean run away and try to take everything on by yourself, dumbass! It doesn't mean cut me out completely and don't tell me why! We've been through enough bullshit together to fix this, too! It doesn't mean I don't fucking love you!"

  
  
Oikawa was blinking too quickly, his watery smile quirking lopsided as he tried unsuccessfully to stem his tears.

 

Iwaizumi was smiling too, a big stupid lunatic grin that pissed him off because he didn't know how to stay angry at Oikawa, even when he deserved it for being the stupidest man alive. He was too stubborn to ever give up on this. (He owed Matsukawa big time.)  


 

He threaded his fingers greedily through Oikawa's stupid hair and tugged him in close for a needy kiss. They stumbled in through the doorway and kicked the door shut behind them, kissing breathlessly and passionately, over and over. They crashed into the sofa and toppled into the battered cushions without stopping, Iwaizumi pinning Oikawa down, rediscovering every inch of him that he'd missed.  


  
  
"You taste like cheese. So romantic," Oikawa teased when they finally came apart for air.

 

He was panting, cheeks flushed, as Iwaizumi nuzzled eagerly into his neck. Their hands were clasped together, and Iwaizumi wasn't even sure when that had happened, but he never wanted to let go. They could fix this. They would try again.  


  
  
"Damn straight. I really fuckin' love you, Tooru," Iwaizumi grinned, clasping his hands tighter.

  
  
"Fuckin' love you too, Hajime," Oikawa beamed, and kissed him again.


End file.
